


A Place to Breathe

by weakzen



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Beds, Cabins, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Pillow Fights, Play Fighting, Pre-Relationship, Slow Romance, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Teasing, Tenderness, Touching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28450629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakzen/pseuds/weakzen
Summary: Shit always happens, so of course it happens on her retreat. No point thinking on it further, except Mason keeps noticing the way it's bothering her.And all he can think about from there is how to make her feel better.
Relationships: Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	A Place to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ejunkiet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/gifts).



> A gift featuring detective Olivia Greene ♥
> 
> (Minor book 3 demo spoilers for M's route.)

Mason's hair whips into his eyes as Felix speeds by in a blur of color and kicked-up pine needles.

“Dibs on the best bed!”

“No, _Olivia_ gets to pick first—”

Snarling, Mason roughly swipes his hair back, but the little shit is already up the stairs and gone by the time he blinks through the sting.

Nothing left but Nate's extended hand and Adam, standing by the door with his coat flapping and his hair ruffling while he stares down at the keys jangling in the lock for a moment before he shakes his head and finishes pulling them out.

“…It's her retreat,” Nate finishes, arm dropping with a sigh.

Adam grabs his bag from the porch and disappears inside as well, and Olivia circles around from the other side of the SUV with a slam of the door, chuckling softly as she stops next to Nate.

“Well…” She claps his shoulder. “You tried.”

“If you want the bedroom he takes, please let me know. It certainly won't be the first time we've had to drag him out of a room he invaded.” Nate folds his arms, shifts his weight. “Although… I'm beginning to think he does it sometimes just because he wants to be carried.”

Her laugh echoes light against the trees on a swell of wind, and Mason glances away, combing a hand through his hair again before he snatches up his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He grabs Olivia's too. Nate's. His eyes fall on Felix's shit for a brief moment, the bright purple trio covered in pins and patches, half-zipped and swelling open with far more fucking clothes than needed for just one weekend.

Mason scoffs and slams the hatch shut.

If he wanted to be in the middle seat so fucking badly, then he could get his own goddamn bags too.

Gravel crunching beneath his boots, Mason crosses the drive to join them. “Doesn't matter which bed she gets,” he calls out, then stops, extending Nate's bag without looking while he throws Olivia a heated smirk. “She's gonna end up in mine the whole weekend anyway.”

Distantly, the strap yanks from his hand, a frown burrows into his back, but Mason barely notices. Olivia's chuckle wraps around him in a warm caress, draws him toward that smirk curling on her lips, then into the depths of those dark eyes, half-lidded and glittering with amusement. He leans closer as she skims her hand atop his, fingertips brushing around bumps of knuckle, straights of bone, until she reaches reaches nail and covers him entirely in the heat of her touch.

A shiver prickles down his spine. A spark lights up her gaze.

Eyelids dropping even further, she slides her fingers between his, laced together in a crackle of desire and matched heartbeat for an instant before she slips through his grasp entirely and pulls her bag away.

“I'm pretty sure it'll be the other way around, sunshine.”

A wink follows the low tone.

Then she keeps her eyes on his as she draws her finger along his jaw, burning a line through stubble before her touch flicks free off the edge and she walks away without a second glance—

—and fuck if his chin doesn't rise up to come along.

_Fuck_.

Mason sucks in a breath through his teeth, rolling his lips together on a flare of arousal, a throb of heat pulsing through his cock to match the scorch mark lingering on his face. Heart pounding, he folds his arms as he leans back to watch her go. Licks his lips. Takes in her familiar form. The curve of her waist into hips. The contours of her legs, eyes dipping in and out of denim. And the swell of that gorgeous fucking ass, swaying with each step she takes up the stairs until she disappears through the doorway after Nate and leaves him standing by himself in the driveway, groaning and half-hard.

But not entirely alone.

That odd excitement joins him, though it isn't really so odd anymore for how often it shows up tangled around his desire these days. Still, it's there. So is that ache, blowing in to roll through his chest, all of it twisting together into…

_More_.

More than usual, anyway. Maybe because of the location.

The silence.

All around him.

No engines or jagged noise. No heartbeats but the four inside, rhythms more familiar than his own. Nothing but birdsong, a chill rustling the leaves.

And that thick fucking silence, the stillness in the air, gliding heavy and smooth down his entire body, dropping eyelids, sinking shoulders, pushing tension out and away on a quiet sigh.

So much that Mason sways on the spot for a moment, takes a small step back to keep balance. Then another.

Always nearly knocks him on his ass. Every time.

How fucking _good_ it could feel to just stand there and breathe when the world wasn't trying to shred him apart.

Mason takes a deep inhale of the forest, sky to soil, a tang of cold warmed by the afternoon sun and softened further by decaying leaves, damp earth and pine. He blinks open to the cabin, two-story pitched roof rolling into a covered front porch that wraps to an open deck attached to the side. The woods press in around the structure, towering trees buffered only by the firebreak and burning brilliantly regardless in the low-angled autumn light.

Burning beautifully too, in warm colors that don't singe. Backdrop of cloudless blue. Falling leaves. Real picturesque shit, straight off a fucking postcard, but he shuts his eyes again anyway to enjoy the sliver of peace.

Because it never lasts.

Never does.

Not even more than a few fucking steps toward the porch this time before something's clawing at him again.

Soot and cedar, rushing out from inside to scrape into his nose. Not a bad combination. Just too much. Always too fucking much, too abrasive, as usual. Already scratching down his throat, making fingers twitch and curl for a cigarette by the time he passes through the doorway into the collective gaze of hundreds of unblinking eyes.

Mason pauses, then stares back.

Wood knots, whirled and fucking everywhere. On the floorboards. The support pillars. The timber walls, logs scraped raw and varnished to golden hues, stacked high and soaring to the pitched ceiling above the living room. A fireplace stretches upward too, on the side wall, a column of grey stone looming above leather couches and armchairs, patterned rugs and throw pillows, folded blankets slung over the backs of seats and every scrap of fabric screeching in color bright enough this time to make his eyes water.

He turns away from it, to a kitchen and dining room that occupy the other half of the space. To a wall of windows that overlook the deck, to the fire pit, lounge chairs, a circular hot tub too, covered and sunk halfway into the planks, then to the flash of water gleaming between the trees, the lake hiding downhill beyond the branches.

The ceiling sits lower on that side of the cabin, with a staircase leading up to the second floor and to Felix's loud humming. The unmistakable sound of him rummaging around in shit too, and Nate's gonna fucking love that. Would probably be putting a stop to it, if he hadn't been snared by the bookcase on the far wall, caught inside one of the few actual books on shelves otherwise filled with board games, movies and other decorative bullshit. Adam strides past on his usual tactical sweep, arms folded, sunglasses hooked, eyes darting in constant assessment while he buzzes with scenarios and solutions.

And Olivia…

Mason follows her gaze up to the chandelier and smirks.

“They're antlers, not horns,” she mutters when he approaches, her lips lifting in a grin. “So don't even try for that comment.”

With a glance to the side, he catches her eye. “Don't need to anyway. I already know the answer.”

Her grin pulls into a smile when he drops his bag next to hers and slides an arm around her back. She leans into him, tucks her head on his collarbone. A usual spot. A usual tickle of hair, catching in his stubble while that soft scent washes over him.

Sweet bark and wet leaves. Summer rain misting through branches.

Never smelled anywhere near that good on him, the few times he squeezed it from a bottle at her place when they showered together.

Somehow it smells even better when her arm comes up around his waist.

“You still sure we're gonna end up in your room?” he asks a moment later, then reaches out to give the couch a few pats. “'Cause I think we'll be here. And on the rug after. That armchair too, both of 'em actually.” Mason nods at the pair, then clicks his tongue as he glances toward the kitchen. “Oh, the hot tub for sure. The lounge chairs, the dining table—”

“Is _charmingly rustic._ ” Nate finally snaps the book shut and turns to deliver a look. “A fine example of the rudimentary design characteristic of North American log cabins, which emphasizes concern for reliable, utilitarian function over aesthetic form.”

Olivia hums in agreement. “That table _does_ look sturdy, Nate.” She pauses, a laugh building in her chest. “A fine example of some nice, solid hardwood.”

Smirking deeply, Mason spins her in a flash and pulls her against him. Her heartbeat spikes wonderfully into his chest, breath hitches too, on a soft gasp chased by a flush of heat, right before her arms loop behind his neck. This time, she sways toward him, but not enough. He wants her to bend. Arc up into that perfect fit. That full press of heat, tits crushed against him while their hips grind together.

So he curls his arms even tighter around that tiny waist—and yanks her closer to make it happen.

Enough to bend free another gasp. Enough to blow her pupils wide and black, sparks catching to arousal, fingers curling in his hair, tongue darting along her lips as their bodies slot flush into place and, _fuck_ , if they hadn't spent too goddamn long stuffed in back of that fucking car, unable to touch.

He swipes her hair back from her cheek. Cups it and leans even closer. Drags the pad of his thumb around the slick shine on her lips, and he still isn't tired of seeing how that pretty mouth always parts and opens right up for him whenever he does that.

Mason pulls her lower lip down before letting it flick free, shifts his hips against hers so she can't miss how excited she's got him.

He doubts he'll ever be tired of it.

“You talking about the table, sweetheart,” he murmurs against her lips, “or my—”

Felix screams.

In _excitement_ , Mason notes from the pitch, the instant before Olivia startles and his fangs descend anyway on a jolt of hot adrenaline and bristling hair.

“You guys need to come see this _right now!”_

“See _what?”_ Adam calls out, already halfway up the stairs.

“Just get up here!”

Adam barrels over the landing and disappears down the hallway while the rest of them exchange a quick look before following. The stairs creak beneath their combined weight and stomping, Nate in the lead, Mason in the rear. His eyes fall on Olivia's ass out of habit, but he can't give the appreciation it deserves. Not this time. The jittery thrum in his veins screams too loud, too ready for a fight, and he's too focused trying to hear Felix's heartbeat above his own, Adam's too, because they sound fucking _strange_. Their beats bend and bounce odd around the corners, echoing down the upstairs corridor instead of pounding straight through the walls and floor into his ears and chest like they should.

Like they normally would, if this were a normal cabin.

In the hallway, they pass two bathrooms. Identical. In style and ransacking. The closet too, slat doors whipped open to extra pillows, blankets, and heap of rifled-through hygiene products spilling out onto the floor. Nate sighs as he steps around it, and continues onward to the last door at the end of the hallway. The room with the weird acoustics. The source of indirect heartbeat, a blare of Adam's annoyance.

And the distinctive sound of somebody bouncing on a fucking bed.

Confusion rolls off Nate and Olivia as they enter, followed quickly by a twist of it in his own gut when Mason rounds the corner and nearly plows into the two of them. He catches himself with a hand in the curve of Olivia's back, touch that lingers as his gaze darts over her head and into the large space. Up to the pitched roof lined with support beams and skylights, to the same warm timber walls as downstairs, the double windows at the far end framed by gauzy curtains.

Then finally to the floor. The bed.

The huge fucking bed, long and narrow, covered in flannel sheets and blankets and lined with hundreds of different pillows, all of it spanning the entire goddamn length and width of the room except for the tiny tip of an entry area they're all currently crowding by the door.

Everyone except Felix.

“Well, uh…” Nate breathes out. “Wow.”

Mason snorts and folds his arms. “I've seen bigger.”

“Isn't it amazing?!”

Felix sails high into the air, whips into a series of backflips that nearly skim the center beam, then immediately explodes into a front flip on a spray of pillows when he lands and just keeps on fucking bouncing from there.

“That's… certainly one word for it.” Nate runs a hand through his hair, and glances to Adam in unspoken question.

Shaking his head, Adam stares at down his phone, thumbs already mashing out a number before he raises it to ear and retreats to the hallway. Nate presses a hand to Adam's shoulder as he passes, then steps deeper into the room to make space. Mason almost follows, but a familiar twinge thrums hard through Olivia's chest and snaps across his skin like an elastic band. It trembles down her arms and into her hands, where her fingers twitch and stiffen on aftershock, trying not to clench, trying not to fold up around her chest either, or shift on the spot when it ripples down her legs too.

Trying not to show any of her reaction at all, even as her lips press together and her breath comes on a shorter inhale.

And her heartbeat elevates to that tense, uneasy pace.

Same as it always does around magic.

Without looking, Mason steps next to her. Slings an arm around her shoulder and tugs her against him.

“I know we'll end up on the bed too,” he says, gazing out at it, “but it's gonna take some work to make sure we use every available part of it.”

The tension remains in her body, even as she gives him a faint smirk. Her arm comes up around his waist. “If we do that, sunshine, then I'm not gonna be able to walk for the rest of the week.”

“That gonna be a problem?”

Her lip curls upward. “Not if you carry me.”

Nate clears his throat while Mason chuckles and pulls her closer to plant a lazy kiss on her hairline. Olivia smiles up at him briefly, eyes lingering on his just long enough to say thanks, long enough for that ache to swell through his chest again too, then she glances away. Her fingers come up to toy with the ends of her hair as she stares out at the bed, takes a deep breath.

“So… is this standard on all retreats?”

“No, it isn't.” Nate rubs his chin. “They probably forgot to change it back.”

Her fingers pause. “Change it back?”

“Well, _reconfigure_ would be more accurate to say,” Nate explains, glancing at her as he folds his arms. “The spaces used for these retreats are dynamic, to a certain extent, able to be reconfigured to meet the specific needs of a given team.” He smiles warmly. “Or to suit the interests of the individual member being celebrated as a new addition.”

“They had a pool for mine,” Felix shouts as he bounces his way back toward the group. “With a diving board and animal floats. Oh, and that house had this _amazing_ media room. There was this _huge_ TV, a stereo, and the walls were filled floor-to-ceiling with pretty much every single movie ever made, and then a bunch of different music for me to try out too.”

Felix stops in front of them, then flops back against the mattress, hands to chest, legs swinging up as he lands in a sunbeam with a happy sigh.

“I miss that surround sound system.”

“ _Ugh._ ” Mason sneers. “I fucking don't.”

If the bass coming off that fucking thing hadn't actually liquefied his organs that weekend, then it came pretty damn close.

Felix sighs again. “The house was on the beach too. Right by the ocean.”

“And the fucking city.”

“Miami,” Nate clarifies.

Mason groans and folds his arms, trying not to remember all the burning neon, noise, and shit-soaked humidity. Took him a goddamn week after they left to completely scrub the reek of gasoline and sewage from his hair.

Felix shoots him a look, that tell-tale fucking gleam sharpening in amber eyes while a similar grin unfurls to match.

Then the little shit whips back upright and turns toward Olivia.

“Oh, Mason complained nonstop about _everything_ ,” Felix drawls exaggeratedly, “the _entire_ time we were there. Moaning on and on about the sun, the heat.”

“The sand,” Nate says, offering a smile to Mason's scowl.

“Yeah, he wouldn't even go outside at all unless I turned on the TV or stereo—”

“I fucking wonder why.”

“—then he'd stomp off across the beach like he was walking on shards of glass.”

“I _was_ ,” Mason mutters, and his toes curl tight like they're being shred apart again by all that goddamn sand in his socks. “That whole fucking beach was covered in broken bottles and syringes.”

“Cigarette butts too,” Felix's lips thin into a wide smirk, “by the time you were done with it.”

Mason rolls his eyes.

Chuckling, Felix bounces slightly on the spot and glances back to Olivia. “I was still learning English back then, so he didn't ruin it too much for me. I mostly knew what he was upset about by whatever he was currently groaning at, or scoffing at, or glaring at.” He snorts, then points at Mason's face. “Or giving _that_ look.”

Mason stares hard at him, unimpressed.

“That one too,” Felix adds, breaking into a cackle.

Olivia joins him, in a soft chuckle of her own, then glances up at Mason. “Alright, so what happened on _your_ retreat, sunshine?”

“Nothing,” he replies, but his lip quirks upward anyway. “Mine was also in a cabin. Tucked away in the mountains. Forests and meadows. Nice place. Quiet.”

“ _Boring_ ,” Felix whispers loudly.

Mason shrugs. “Somewhere in Europe.”

“The Italian Alps.”

Nate gives him a soft smile, one Mason doesn't openly return, but that's fine.

Because Nate knows. Always has.

Never needed to say it, not even back then, sat on that starlit balcony, legs dangling over the edge while Nate leaned on elbows, whole valley below unfolding endlessly into moon-soaked darkness while that silence wrapped around the both of them comfortable enough to warm an alpine night.

Unspoken understanding. Ever since Chana's first ritual—and probably before that too, but he can't remember.

Shit that couldn't really be put to words anyway, despite all the languages Nate knew. Shit that still didn't need to be said either, even though Mason could actually speak English these days.

Mostly.

Nate's smile widens a tick before he glances to Olivia.

“Adam and I never had any official retreats ourselves because this cohesion and assessment program was only implemented in the last century.” He chuckles softly, then rests his chin in hand. “Although, we've certainly had our own time together. In Paris. Switzerland. Turkey— _Constantinople_ , at the time. Slower moments anyway, when it was just the two of us as a team.”

Memory clouds his eyes for a moment, happy little smile cresting his lips on a wave of emotion before he glances to the hallway, where Adam paces by, shoulders hunched.

“…Yes, I _am_ certain I filled out the form correctly. You need to dispatch another Archi—” Adam erupts in a sharp scoff, followed by a bristle and a squeeze hard enough to make the phone crackle. “Considering I authored some of that contingency protocol, I hardly require your recitation—and if you'd bothered to check subsection F prior to your attempted lecture, you would already understand precisely why _you're_ wrong _…_ ”

Olivia raises an eyebrow at the receding conversation before dragging her attention back to the room. “So, uh… why would anyone need a bed this big anyway? Team of giants?”

“Orgies,” Mason replies faster than Nate and Felix bursts into a loud, sputtering laugh before collapsing to the mattress again. Olivia cracks a smile too, one that breaks into a chuckle when Mason glances at her. “Don't even need to get up when you're done,” he continues, voice dipping low as he leans down to tease his lips against her ear, “just roll over to the next person and start—”

“This _very, long, weekend_ we're about to have.”

Mason turns to meet to Nate's withering stare and smirks immediately.

“Not as long as—”

“The bed, _yes_.” Nate sighs in loud exasperation over Felix's laughter. “We have three more days here. Can you _please_ try to pace yourself a little?”

Mason's smirk deepens. “Don't need to with my stamina.”

Nate rolls his eyes, groaning, then offers Olivia a pained look. “The Agency does employ giants in various positions, primarily as specialized Tactical Agents. Not many, however, simply because they aren't terribly common outside of the Echo World.”

Felix nods. “Most of 'em are too big to fit through the portals.”

“Those aren't the only holes they're too big to fit in—”

Mason barely dodges the pillow that whips past his head, but Nate doesn't stop.

In flashes of motion, they keep coming. They whistle past his body while he swerves or blocks or returns throws to the sound of Felix's howling cackles and his own deep laughter. A few misses sail into the hallway when Adam stomps past again—but he smacks them away without looking.

“This is completely ridiculous. I specifically requested _five_ bedrooms and _five_ beds,” he grunts through clenched teeth, “one with extra length.”

On the bed, Nate immediately readies another pillow while he and Felix snap attention to Mason.

He chuckles and spreads his hands in mock innocence. “What?”

“This… seems like five beds, maybe,” Olivia mutters, and the three of them look to her.

She bolted closer to the bed once shit started flying, but now she takes a few steps back, knuckles pressed to lips in thought. Felix quickly smears the tears from his cheeks and springs to his feet again.

“Hey, yeah… I think you're right, Olivia.” He squints out at the mattress. “It _is_ five beds, just—” his hands clap together in a crushing motion “—all smooshed into this big one.”

The pillow raises higher as Nate shoots another look at Mason, but he only grins in return.

Starts moving closer to Olivia too. Casual steps that make Felix perk up in attention.

“He's talking about the bed, Nate. What's on your mind?”

Felix flicks his gaze to Nate, eyebrows waggling. “Yeah, Natey, what _are_ you thinking about?”

Outnumbered and sensing the change, Nate's shoulders hunch defensively. His eyes dart between Mason and Felix before flashing to Olivia, who's too busy staring at the bed to notice the silent plea for help. Felix circles into a flank. Little sidesteps, big shit-eating grin. Nate tracks it from the corner of his eye, and Mason finally reaches Olivia, claps a hand on her shoulder to snap her out of it.

Then he snakes his arm around her waist from behind. Tucks his chin over her shoulder while she takes in the situation.

Holds her tight against his body, ass pinned to hips, so she can't get away when he teases his lips against her ear into a smirk—and a whisper.

“You ever been a human shield before, sweetheart?”

Her pulse spikes immediately, followed by a flare of outrage that has him chuckling into her neck.

“ _Oh_ , you _fucking_ asshole—”

“Don't worry, Olivia,” Nate says coolly, eyes fixed on Mason. “I would never hit _you_ with anything.”

Felix scoops up an armload of ammunition. “Don't make promises you can't keep, Natey. Remember what our Almighty Leader always says,” his voice drops into a godawful British accent, “ _any-fing can happen in the heat of battle!”_

Nate full-body groans, while Olivia half-struggles, half-grinds against Mason as he walks them both a few steps to the side. “I'm gonna punch you right in the damn dick, sunshine.”

Half-grins too, despite the threat.

He presses a wet kiss to her neck in response, then bends their bodies to snatch up a pillow. “Might find it a little hard to do that at the moment.”

“Might find it a little hard in general,” Felix quips with a wide smirk. “Or just _little_ in general.”

Olivia breaks into a laugh, and it rumbles against him so nicely that Mason doesn't give a shit about the comment, only that it made her smile. Only that it dropped some of the tension from her back. Only that she's focused on him now, glaring over her shoulder even as something sly glitters in her eyes.

“So what's the Agency policy on hostage-taking anyway?”

“It's not a tactic we employ.” Adam's voice cuts in sudden from the doorway, where he stands shoving his phone into his pocket. “Verbal de-escalation is the primary response to any hostage situation encountered in the field. However, termination is permitted—if a team leader deems it necessary to save the hostage's life.”

He punctuates the comment with a sharp look to Mason, then folds his arms as he scans over the rest of the standoff.

“Uh oh, Dad's mad,” Felix whispers.

Adam glances at Felix and groans out that usual pained sigh.

Frowning slightly, Nate straightens and drops his pillow. Felix follows his lead a moment later, shrugging before he hurls that entire armload high into the air, apparently forgetting that shit also comes back down. And it does. All over his fucking head. Mason chuckles to the sound of soft 'oofs', then tosses his pillow away too. He loosens his grip around Olivia. Enough that she could slip free, if she wanted.

She doesn't.

Meanwhile, Nate and Adam exchange a glance, right before Nate's frown deepens.

“…They can't send anyone out to fix it, can they?”

Adam sighs again. “Unfortunately, no. Not before we're scheduled to leave, anyway.” He levels a hard, determined glare at the bed. “We're stuck with this for the weekend.”

The rest of them share a look. Olivia shifts slightly on another twinge of unease, one that snaps deep into Mason's gut this time. Her shoulders cinch tighter, right before she finally gives in to fold her arms.

Adam turns to her, brow pinched in frown. “This situation is unacceptable and I will be filing a complaint when we return.” He scoffs under his breath, then glances away to roll his eyes. “Appended with suggestions to improve reading comprehension.”

She shrugs. “It's fine, Adam.”

It's a lie too, on a near silent crack of voice, a faint spike in pulse.

But only Mason notices.

Nate rubs his chin. “I think we should check the rest of the cabin to ensure everything else is in order.”

Adam nods in agreement. “Good idea. I'll examine the exterior structure and surrounding perimeter.”

“Then I'll see to the living room and kitchen.” Nate looks to Olivia, eyes apologetic and full of sympathy. “I'm truly sorry about this, Olivia.”

“It's not your fault.” She shrugs again. “And it's just a bed.”

Another crack. Another spike.

More tension too—but it's tightening in his chest now, for some fucking reason.

“That's why _I'm_ gonna stay up here,” Felix announces, hands on his hips, “and make sure this bed is adequately soft and bouncy. Because I am still not convinced yet, let me tell you.”

Ignoring it, Mason wraps his other arm around Olivia and smirks at Felix. “Guess that means we'll have to take the deck and the hot tub.”

The words barely leave his lips before Felix takes the bait and whips past the group on blast of air, gone out the room and thumping down the stairs with an echoing shout. “There's a hot tub?!”

Another scream quickly follows.

And it bends into the room just as indirectly.

From there, Nate steps off the bed. Leaves. Maybe with a comment about making Felix clean up the mess. Adam leaves after, with orders to check the room and the rest of the upstairs. Meet in the kitchen when they're done. And maybe Adam gets a grunt in response. Maybe not. But Adam knows Mason's good to take care of shit regardless. Olivia, too.

Even if that tense beat of hers is pounding loud enough to nearly drown out everything else.

It fills the space entirely. Ricochets off the walls and ceiling. Slices through the dust drifting in the sunbeams. Bounces right off that giant fucking bed to stab directly into his chest and she's already staring out at it again, tension radiating from her as glaring and uncomfortable as a midday summer sun.

So Mason swings directly into that gaze to give her a much better view.

He curls his fingers in her belt loops and he pulls her against him. A bump of hips before he circles his arms around her waist again.

“You okay?”

She huffs out a weak chuckle, then slides her hands up behind his neck. “You seriously asking that after using me as a damn meat shield?”

“Yeah,” he replies simply, shrugging. “That didn't bother you. The bed does.”

Olivia stiffens as she stares up at him. Her fingers cinch around the collar of his jacket. Slow increments. Shuddering creaks of leather to match the tremble in her chest. The words climbing up to collect in her throat, where she swallows around them. Or against them. He can't tell.

He just doesn't want to hear her say that it's fine—

“The magic does,” he adds.

—because it fucking isn't.

That twinge thrums again, but it's different. Harder. Hits like a sucker punch, and hits them both.

Her breath topples into shallow inhales, tight and strained, but Olivia remains standing. Perfectly still. So does he, with his own uncertainty, holding her gaze as she holds his as they hold each other. And they're wider than normal, her eyes. Pupils shifting. Darting rapid. Vibration more than distinct movements. Tremors searching up into his, maybe, as emotion shimmers below in shades of smoked quartz, flickers on facets gleaming beautifully in depths of rich brown, all of it flashing too fast and too far away to catch even if he could name a fraction of it, but then she blinks away from him and it doesn't fucking matter anyway.

She's not okay. Right now. Right here. That's all he really needs to know.

That's why he slips his hand under her jacket to stroke warm circles in the curve of her back. That's why he swipes his thumb along her cheek, that slow path to draw her eyes shut as she presses her face into his palm and he _knows_ he'll never get fucking tired of seeing _that_.

And that's why he kisses her.

It's his lips brushing around her parting mouth. It's her invitation and his eager acceptance. It's their mingled breath before slides of tongue.

It's a slow kiss and he kisses her deeply, in ways familiar, unfamiliar, and they're all so fucking unfamiliar lately, but still good. So fucking good. Even better when she moans, or maybe it's him. Maybe both. It doesn't matter, all he needs to know is how to lick to make her do it again, how to suck her lip into a long drag of teeth, pull her up onto toes, how to twist his fingers in that soft hair above her neck, change their angle, handful of liquid silk as she yanks his collar to pull him back down in turn, and how to roll his hips against hers in response, until her heart pounds to a better rhythm, until that tension in her back melts under his touch, until it's just _them_ , together, nothing else, and she has the space to remember how fucking good it could feel to just stand there and breathe.

A sliver of peace.

One he makes last. As long as possible.

…But eventually, it ends.

They separate with a soft pop, lips stuck together, a release of breathless excitement. She gazes up at him beneath dark lashes and heavy lids, with flushed cheeks and a red bloom around her chin where his stubble scraped the skin. Her lips are swollen already. Puffy and slick with their combined shine, and Mason never could resist that pretty mouth.

Just like she could never resist parting it for him, on another swipe of thumb before he straightens up.

“You go on ahead, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sliding hands to her hips. “I'll take care of shit up here.”

Something flickers in her eyes again, too quick.

“You sure?”

He smirks. “Yeah, but you're gonna owe me for it.”

She scoffs, rolls her eyes, even as she breaks into a smile. And this time, he catches it.

Her thanks.

Glittering soft in the warmest colors he's ever seen.

“Fine, then.” She slides her hands down his chest and gives him a pat. “I'll add it to my list. Right at the top, next to that dick punch I still owe you.”

Mason chuckles deeply, and Olivia grins, even deeper, then gives him a shove toward the bed, already turned and walking away by the time he lands on his ass. But she stops in the doorway before she goes, fingers curled on the frame, a click of nails as she glances back over her shoulder.

“…Don't take too long.”

Then she disappears around the corner and leaves him sitting by himself on that giant fucking bed, smiling stupid and fully hard.

Mason flops back against it with a sigh.

But not entirely alone.


End file.
